


We Time - Amoreanonyname - Supernatural [Archive of Our Own]

by Amoreanonyname



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Episode: s10e04 Paper Moon, Fluff and Angst, Gen or Pre-Slash, Idiots in Love, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Slightly crack, Sort Of, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoreanonyname/pseuds/Amoreanonyname
Summary: Times like these, all hunters need a little liquid help. They’d packed enough booze to drown a football team. Eventually, Dean got into the whiskey. Eventually, the dam broke.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Every Time We Touch: A First-Time Wincest Fest





	We Time - Amoreanonyname - Supernatural [Archive of Our Own]

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for the First Time Wincest Fest! 
> 
> I've always felt like if something physical had every actually happened between the brothers during the show, that "We Time" they took before Paper Moon would be a pretty strong contender for when it happened. They were holed up alone for weeks in the middle of nowhere, and they were both next-level clingy after everything they'd been through. I could see emotions getting the better of them and them tipping over the edge one night while far away from everything.

It was over.

The blood and the killing and the not sleeping and the constant, constant fear. 

Dean was back. He was cured. For now. The Mark was still there, they’d still need to deal with that, but they had some time.

They needed time away. Somewhere quiet, secluded. Sam found a cabin by a lake, middle of nowhere, no wi-fi. Handed the keys to Dean, partially reluctant but partially grateful. Dean, trying very, very hard to slot them back into their roles, fussed over Sam, all but ordered him to sleep during the drive. 

For the first week, that was basically all they did. They were both exhausted.

The second week, they slowly came back to life, but it was… odd. Strange. A lot to talk about, a lot they didn’t want to talk about. Sam didn’t want to push him, and he wasn’t keen to talk about the things he’d done either. But he knew they’d have to eventually. 

Times like these, all hunters need a little liquid help. They’d packed enough booze to drown a football team. Eventually, Dean got into the whiskey. Eventually, the dam broke. 

Nighttime. Their room. Two beds, a few feet apart. Sam was closest to the door, sitting up and swaying. Dean was steadier, but a loose smile around the edge of his lips gave away his own drunkenness. 

They both knew what tonight was for, but they avoided it anyway. Bantered about god knows what else. Anything else. Sam barely paid attention. Eventually, Dean’s mood grew serious, contemplative.

“Sammy, you know… you know I _did_ stuff. While I was, while I was gone.”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I know. At least some of it. I was tryin’ to track you down. So I knew some of what you were doing. I can guess there was more.”

“You haven’t asked. Don’t you wanna know?”

“Honestly? Not really. It doesn’t matter, Dean. I guess, I guess I just don’t _care_.”

Dean looked almost surprised at this, and seemed to take a moment digesting it. It was true, a long time ago Sam would have been trying to get Dean to talk about it, every detail, work through it _together_. But now, he’d lived long enough to know. He’d done enough to know. He knew his brother well enough to know. Talking didn’t always help.

Dean looked up, still slurry, still drunk. Looking suddenly small, vulnerable. Sam hated it.

_“Can you ever forgive me?”_

_“I already have”_ , Sam whispered, choking slightly on the words. And he hated Dean sitting there, looking so small, his eyes watery, looking so unsure. Dean was never supposed to look like that. Sam, Sam was the one who wasn’t sure, who didn’t know, who always had things happening to him. Dean was the one who was there, always, always there, always comforting, always protecting, always doing anything he could, and a whole lot that he couldn’t, to take the pain away. Dean was the one who forgave Sam absolutely everything, no matter how bad. 

_“Sammy”_ , Dean choked. The booze and the memories and whatever leftover terror Dean was still dealing with. And Sam just couldn’t anymore. Sank to his knees between their beds. Already so close together, landing between Dean’s knees. Sam needed, he _needed_. His brother. He needed comfort, he needed to know his brother was here, not a demon, not a corpse. He needed to know he didn’t have to be stronger for a minute.

Between his brother’s knees, Sam buried his face in Dean’s shirt. He was a little kid, he was five, he’d fallen off his bike, he’d skinned his knee, he’d had a nightmare. He hadn’t done this since he was small. Buried his face in his brother’s stomach and clung to him. 

When Dean had been a demon, he’d smelled different. Sam could tell anytime he got in close. Like sulfur. It had jarred him every time. Now, two weeks later, Dean was back smelling like _Dean_. Sam breathed deeply. Dean’s hands, one on his shoulder, the other clutching Sam’s hair.

Not little kids anymore. The closeness and the feelings and the booze and the physical contact, different things came up between them as adults. Before he could stop himself, Sam ran his nose across Dean’s stomach. Dean stiffened, but his hands stayed rooted on Sam. From between Dean’s legs, Sam could _feel_. And for a moment, he _wanted_. He wanted to be closer, he wanted to feel _everything_ , he wanted to be under Dean’s skin, he wanted release he hadn’t had in so, so long. He wanted them to never be apart again. 

And in a moment, he realized how wrong that was. Pulled his face away, looked up. Dean was staring at him, looking nearly sober, his lips parted. And if Sam was any drunker than he was, he would almost think Dean wanted too. 

_“Sam”_ , Dean sobbed again, gripping Sam’s arm. Not letting him leave.

Sam didn’t actually want to leave. 

Sam didn’t want to stop touching him. He wanted to touch and touch and touch, until he stopped seeing his dead brother every time he closed his eyes, until he stopped seeing a demon in his brother’s skin, ready to kill him. 

“Sam, are you sure? If I’m making you do this, if I’m hurting you somehow-”

Lips pressed against wet lips, hands cradled tear-streaked faces. Dean’s hand tangled in Sam’s hair despite his trepidation.

It had never happened before, but Sam was too gone to care. He just wanted them to be close again.

_Soulmates_ , he remembered. Something he didn’t think about very often. What had happened to Dean’s soul, during that time? What had happened to Sam’s? 

“No Dean, it - it’s okay. It’s good. I want to.” 

Dean hauled Sam up onto his own bed. For the longest time, they just held and touched and kissed. Dean’s hands kept going back to Sam’s hair, Sam kept touching Dean everywhere, confirming every inch was his real brother, pressing into his skin until his senses filled with it. 

It wasn’t necessarily _hot_ , or romantic, or really anything like Sam had done before. It was different. It was touch and need and reassurance and _don’t leave me again_ and _forgive me_ and _please_ and _I need you_ and _I chose you over everything_ _and I’d do it again_ and all the things they couldn’t say to each other, but needed. 

It was them joining back together. 

And the tension built and they took each other through it and they needed and needed until they were finished and Sam’s heartbeat was in his head but he had his brother and everything was okay. 

And that’s how they fell asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! As always, feedback is welcome!


End file.
